Building Our Bed: Part 1

Finally an end to the destruction is in sight and construction is beginning!

Well, as I write this there has been (and continues to be) an ongoing struggle with our drawers, involving a bunch of unforgiving, push-to-open, drawer runners.

But…we have installed our bed.

This involved a 12mm piece of ply for the bedhead, an insert into the window, glued and screwed into place.  We built a frame for the top of this piece to hold it all straight and carpeted the inside to keep things nice and soft. The ply will be veneered with rosewood and a rosewood shelf installed on top.

I am trying to convince Henry to paint the insides of the drawers in bright turquoise, fuschia, blue and yellow – don’t you think that will look amazing!? He is not sold. Yet.

It seems very appropriate that we made this first. It is our bedhead, but it is also Henry’s guitar cabinet. Music is important to Henry and therefore it is important to me and therefore it is important to our family. So, guitar cabinet, item one: check.

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Henry built a base for our mattress, which is designed to lift up on gas struts so that we can access the storage behind the drawers and under the bed. He is contemplating a shelf in that space which raises with the bed allowing us to simply slide things out. I can’t believe I haven’t yet got a photo of the bed, but that will come once the drawers are in – that will definitely demand a celebratory picture – ’till then you’ll have to wait.

2013 7 22 Building Bed0008We did this work late into a night, when Henry was on a roll and not prepared to stop for sleep, even though it was super cold it was nice to wonder around his dads shed with no kids to worry about. For some reason I just love looking around this shed. I’ve taken photos of it for a past blog and it was one of my more enjoyable photography projects.  I love taking photos of interesting objects, object that are usually glossed over and not really seen for the beauty they hold. From the way the grease has collected on a well-worn handle, or the pile of shavings around a vice or the bucket of metal shards and the well ordered sequence of tools and bits and bobs. This stuff fills me with content. There is surety about building things, these big European made machines are made to be of use and it is a privilege to know the person who can use them like an artist. His son also can use them and it is one thing that makes me proud to be that sons wife. This kind of usefulness is somewhat a dying art in the West, it’s presence is a rarity, so I consider myself lucky.

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